


This Evening’s Entertainment

by lapetitemort20



Series: Bleeding Love [3]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Baby Making Smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Food Porn, It ain’t GymFic but please welcome DirtyTalk!Suspender Scott, Light Angst, Merry Christmas You Hoes, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Smut, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:21:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21795236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lapetitemort20/pseuds/lapetitemort20
Summary: Christmas smut, tuxedos and this evening’s entertainment...
Relationships: Scott Moir & Tessa Virtue, Scott Moir/Tessa Virtue
Series: Bleeding Love [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1530503
Comments: 38
Kudos: 87





	This Evening’s Entertainment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Red_Rover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_Rover/gifts).



> I’ve promised y’all smut so here it is.
> 
> This is a little different in feel for the BL ‘verse - hopefully more fun and flirty than the usual intensity.
> 
> Thank you to my betas for putting up with me - @RookandPawn1 & @redrover_15!
> 
> Merry Christmas, you filthy animals!

Suspender Scott was always her favourite Scott - because this also meant Tuxedo Scott. It’s strange to think of him in categories, but that’s how she could always compartmentalise him and the various stages of their relationship in her mind.

Invariably these categories would revolve around their programmes; Umbrellas Scott when they had first felt the stirrings of young and forbidden love, Farrucas Scott who was strong and possessive, Carmen Scott welcomed her pursuit, Hip Hip Chin Chin Scott was playful and flirty. Stay Scott was angsty and intense, but Prince Scott hooked her back in with his BDE and sass. Latch Scott was Scott at his most tender and vulnerable. Sympathy Scott was all fuck me eyes and Moulin Rouge Scott was the one who declared that he would love her till the end of time.

They were 22 years in the making by the time they had retired but it was really the last four Scotts which made her think that their partnership might be more than what was safe to express on the ice.

Yet it was always Tuxedo Scott who made her weak in the knees, her heart go a flutter, and was responsible for the wanting between the juncture of her thighs. It was all in the details. All in the feeling.

The way his tight white shirt stretched across his muscular chest. The sure knot of his bow tie. The sparkle in his eyes and his debonair countenance. The suspenders which ran over those beautifully defined shoulders and collarbones. The sharply tailored trousers with a satin ribbon that ran down his athletic thighs. The way the fabric accentuated the curve of his ass. The jacket with a shiny shawl lapel that was the icing on the cake.

How many times had she envisioned sliding her hands beneath those lapels to shrug off his jacket down to the floor? To undo that bow tie and expose the silver chain beneath, which lay at the base of his neck, against the fluttering of his pulse, absorbing the warmth from his body? To unbutton his shirt one-by-fucking-one with her teeth and fingers, darting her tongue to taste his nipples, rolling them in her mouth, listening to him hiss with need between clenched teeth?

Too many times to count.

Too many unsatisfactory times. Times that left her hungry and desperate, lonely and empty.

Yet here she had him now. No longer solitary, nor left void. But still starved, and eternally yearning.

It would seem that even in their new found domestic bliss, he was ceaseless in his ability to bring her to her knees with want, dripping, waiting to wrap her tight, eager cunt around his thick, veiny, perfect cock. The more she got, the more she wanted. How could she not? She’d wanted him forever. Lusted after and loved him through the years.

The way he looked right now was enough for her to want to jump him. But she had to remember where they were going. She could have her way with him thoroughly enough when they got back home. _Home_ , where she had moved in, post-tour. For now, she would have to make do with this evening’s entertainment.

It’s not that she wasn’t interested in the Christmas gala event they were heading to. It was her idea after all. Even after stepping away from the sport, the public’s interest in them hadn’t dampened. Their Pyeongchang victory was one for the ages, a memory she could still feel marked upon her skin as if it were yesterday.

She can feel the soft, peach fuzz hair along her body rise, chasing an unfurling bloom of goosebumps as she casts her mind back on their penultimate lift, her back arched and arms raised to the rafters. And then, the love shining in Scott’s eyes plain for the entire world to see as he grasped her fiercely in his arms, victorious, triumphant.

How she knew she loved him then. Whether it was the gold that was surely in their hands, or the fact that their hard won comeback dream had become a reality, she couldn’t say. All she knew was that she would never feel as lucky as she did that day, until that very public moment was replaced by an intimate and private one nearly three years later, when he pressed two words onto the skin above her heart as they lay joined, winded, and coiled in white sheets and each other’s limbs.

 _Marry me_.

He didn’t have a ring, he wasn’t even down on one knee. There were no grand gestures for a show of an epic love. But it was the culmination of all the ways and words he had done and said over the past two decades. And he was still hard inside her, emptied, yet not spent. How could she have said anything but yes? And she did, over and over and over again, until he had to kiss her breathy yeses into sultry silence.

“You ready, babe?” his voice brings her out of her reverie.

“Almost!” she calls out from their double vanity bathroom, checking her reflection in the mirror. She always wants to look good for him.

This house too, feels like a goal they worked so hard to achieve. Scott knew when he bought it all those years ago that this was the home he wanted to share with her. Tessa had been in his life for so long by then, and he’d been in love with her for most of that time, he could hardly have imagined a future that existed without her. He just hadn’t known what to do about it because all he wanted at that crossroad was to get away from everything that reminded him of the sport. Including her.

But he’d put in the same amount of love and care into the house as he had done in all their years together. Poured everything he had into it. Took his time to contribute to its evolution, changing it from a dilapidated house with good bones to a bonafide castle in the air which now, miraculously, was inhabited by the unrestrained love and bountiful laughter of the woman who stood shoulder to shoulder with him.

When Tessa emerges from the bathroom, he’s struck not just by her beauty, because she’s always beautiful, but the sheer class and grace with which she carries herself. Seeing her now is like seeing her every first time, the way they used to reserve a special moment for the reveal of their costumes just before they competed.

How many first times had they lived through together? Now the dawning of every new day felt like a fresh start. A chance, and choice, to get it right.

Her makeup is light and natural, with only a hint of smokey eyeshadow to show off the ever-shifting shades and depths of her green eyes, her espresso hair cascading in waves like a Hollywood starlet of yore, her freckles showing through the flush on her skin, and her lips nude, just the way he likes her. She’s wearing a long, cross backed beaded black dress that is sheer in parts, parts that reveal only a hint of how undoubtedly bare she is beneath. The only thing she is wearing underneath are lacy, gauzy black hold up stockings, visible only because of the high slit up the front of her thigh.

 _Damn_. His heart skips a beat as his cock hardens at the sight of her. Who knew that this angel of a woman could also be as delinquent and dirty as a devil?

He makes a throaty sound of appreciation as his eyes sweep up and down her body. He grabs her by her waist and pulls her firmly against him. “Do we have time before we leave?” he asks hopefully, eyes intense.

“I wish,” she takes his hand and slides it up to her left breast. He slips his thumb underneath the diaphanous material to seek out the stiff nub of her nipple. There’s a soft moan catching in her throat. “But we’re already late.”

“That’s too bad. I was thinking we could skip the dinner entirely, and eat something else instead,” he teases as he dips his mouth to join his thumb at her nipple.

She allows his tongue to swirl around the peak of her breast for a few delicious moments before she pulls it regrettably off of her. “I have something else planned,” she replies with a cryptic raise of a beautifully groomed eyebrow.

His expression turns roguish at this revelation. “Is that so?”

Her lips crinkle up in their corners, threatening to break into an all out laugh. She can’t help it though. He could always dissolve her into laughter, when he wasn’t unintentionally breaking her heart. These days the angst seems so far away, as if it existed on a different plane, in a different lifetime. How much time had they wasted? Which is why there isn’t any left to squander now that they are right where they belong.

“I can’t wait,” he emphasises by grabbing a handful of her ass, ushering her through the house to their waiting car.

As they walk into the grand ballroom of one of Toronto’s top hotels, he’s struck by how lucky they are. He’s never reconciled his achievements in the sport of ice dance with fame and all the fancy trappings, but here they are, able to use their platform to make a difference. The event is a Christmas benefit for Canada’s Great Kitchen Party, an organisation they’ve been supportive of during the last few years of their career, in particular the comeback. There’ll be an auction later on with a number of other sports and media personalities involved and somehow the organisers had managed to wrangle Scott into offering himself up for a date.

After welcome cocktails and chatting with guests, Tessa slips her phone into Scott’s tuxedo jacket just as they’re seated at the table as guests of honour. He’s surprised but figures this must have something to do with the plan she mysteriously hinted at before. When he slides it out, the phone is already open to an app. It’s one he knows fairly well, but they’ve never played with it in public before. 

“Game on,” he whispers into the small half-moon of her ear, and strokes away a glamorous curl, his fingers lingering and warm at his favourite spot.

She shivers in anticipation. This should help the time pass by quickly. Or torturously slow, depending on how she views it.

As the savvier business person of the two, she relishes these types of events to market their brand and network, but sometimes all she ever wants is to lead a normal life. Normal, however, has never been a word capable of describing their existence. And normal is definitely not the word she would use to describe their sex life.

The opening speaker drones on, making his introductions and running through the itinerary for the evening’s programme. The auction will be held last, and while she was all for Scott putting himself up for a date, she’s feeling a little possessive at the thought of someone else getting him for a night, even if it’s only dinner. No one knows of their secret engagement, it’s a miracle that nothing has leaked to the press or their rabid fanbase, so she can’t exactly say anything.

If nothing else, dinner is a beautiful, and humbling, affair. The entire menu has been crafted in tribute to the guests of honour, with Virtue Moir being the focus of the main dish. It’s made almost entirely of goose in homage to their signature lift, from the shredded confit goose leg rillette emulsified with brown butter, cured prosciutto, topped with lightly smoked berries and a goose skin crumble, to its Saskatoon berry coulis and butternut squash salad finish.

Tessa seems to be enjoying her dinner a little too much, her sounds of delight reminding Scott they have a little game to be played. He takes her phone out of his pocket and discreetly taps on the app beneath the table cloth to begin. All he has to do is press a button - a saved set of personalised patterns under his name.

It starts off slow, a gentle buzzing so silent that no one would know what they’re up to. Tessa’s busy talking to an older lady seated on her right, but stops short when she realises what he’s doing. She takes a deep breath and squeezes her eyelids shut in the first moment of pleasure. It’s not him, but it will have to suffice for now. When her eyes flit open, she sees him watching her, taking in the sinful scarlet of her cheeks and exposed neck.

His mouth is slack, tongue licking his lips.

She knows he wants a taste. But even just the idea that she’s receiving pleasure at his fingertips even without touching her is reward enough. Watching her fall apart in a public setting is simply the icing on the cake.

“Are you alright, dear?” the lady asks. “You look rather peaky.”

Scott nearly chokes on his drink - an Old Fashioned.

“Uhhmmm, I’m fine. Just a little dizzy,” Tessa squirms.

Technology is a marvellous thing. This vibrating bullet is a fucking god send. They’ve used it before together and it’s been responsible for many an orgasm between the two of them. Not that they really needed it, but it makes for intriguing play time. When she slid it inside her earlier this evening she knew it would blow his mind, but she didn’t expect how punishing it would be to hold in her moans.

The evening’s host has already moved on to talking about the event’s guests of honour. There are ten in all, and each receive a short video presentation along with a rousing welcome. It’s all she can do not to give the game away when her name is called and she has to stand up.

They’ve moved on to dessert by now and Tessa continues to chat to the older lady and her husband sitting next to her. The slow vibrating patterns have started to intensify, causing Tessa’s muscles to contract and release involuntarily. Sitting down doesn’t help because the bullet extends externally with a probe that snakes up her slit and onto her swollen clit. She’s trying hard not to rock her hips and push against the pressure, but what she really wants is Scott inside her, parting her with his slick cock, bold and unrestrained against her walls, filling her up so completely. And then, once he’s flush against her, buried all the way in within her slippery heat, to begin fucking her hard like the whore she is for him.

She lets out a low gasp as the bullet’s vibrating patterns changes again, mimicking a rolling, circling motion, powerful in its urgent push to bring her to climax. This pattern is new. Scott has switched from the saved programme and is manually controlling the app, watching her, waiting for signs of her to come. 

She bites down hard on her lip and digs her nails into his thigh beneath the table. Just a little more and she’ll come hard and fast, yet she can’t voice out what she needs the way she normally does, shaking and breathless, so she lets out a sound that’s halfway between a strangled moan and a nervous laugh. Luckily the audience is too busy applauding one of the musical acts that has just finished performing. No one can hear her except Scott.

But that’s exactly the moment he chooses to stop the app’s programme altogether, sliding her phone back into his jacket pocket with a smug smile.

She makes a sharp sibilant sound. She’s so close. Right on the edge of falling. Her hand on his thigh gropes up to his crotch in needy desperation. He’s hard, so very stiff at her touch, but he takes her hand and places it back on her lap.

“I’ve got to go up on stage in a bit,” he chastises in a whisper. Luckily he’s got his tuxedo jacket to hide the evidence of his arousal. He’s never been very successful in concealing the way his body reacts to hers. Right now is no exception, but it hardly seems appropriate.

“Scott...I need...I’m right there.”

He shakes his head slowly. “Later. I want to taste you when you come.”

“That had better be a promise,” she bites back, as she feels her moist pussy ache from all the teasing and literal anti-climax, even if the game was initially her idea. _Oh, he’ll pay_ , she’ll make sure of it.

It turns out he’s not actually the one paying, but reeling in the dough. The amount of money that’s being spent for a good cause is staggering. A trip with them to Italy goes for $14,000 and that’s without air tickets. There are four other dates up for auction, but Scott fetches a pretty penny, if not the highest. _Not bad for an ice dancer_ , he smirks to himself. It doesn’t hurt that the auctioneer is one of the best in his field, and that Scott worked that stage like the cocky bastard he is, promising with a twinkle in his eye that it’ll be the best dancing date ever.

His auction actually started a bidding war, coming down to two very enthusiastic women and was finally won by an elegant if excited silver-haired lady, who spends the rest of the evening flirting with him outrageously. Tessa in turn moved around to a few other tables as the event wore on, eventually ending up chatting with a couple of the Leafs defence players, one of whom - a blonde and burly type - kept asking for her number. _God, this is going to end up on hockey and figure skating Twitter_ , she predicts. She can’t blame the situation though. Scott and her have always been notoriously private about their relationship status, and their are-they-aren’t-they act is wearing a little thin, even for her.

“Were you trying to make me jealous, Moir?” Tessa growls the moment they get through the front door some two hours later. She’s feeling a little grouchy from having to hold her emotions in all evening. She’s about to burst, in more ways than one.

He’s taken his coat off, leaving it on the edge of the sofa. His bow tie is undone and he’s sitting down pulling off his shoes. He’s a little tipsy but _fuck_ he looks so good right now. He hadn’t said a single word on their limo ride back, though there was plenty of jaw-clenching to be observed.

“Were _you_?”

“Did it work?” she goads, half cross with him, but also highly turned on at the idea. He’d always been a little jealous when she’s around other men, and yet she’d had no say about who he dated. She never could understand why, until they’d both realised how much they’d been holding a flame for each other. Choosing other people never helped make them forget, if anything it only ever underscored how ruined they were for anyone else.

He doesn’t reply, instead grabs her hand brusquely and pulls her onto his lap. He’s hard as hell and she knows it. And he can feel how wet she already is through the sheer material of her dress.

“You know it did, but you didn’t have to,” he wraps one hand around her throat, his thumb pushing in a light pulsing pressure just below her jawline. “You know I want you in any way. Always have.”

She sucks in her breath, already feeling lightheaded at the pressure around her throat. She loves it when he takes control and wants to push him a little further. “Then take me.”

He looks at her the way he’s done a million times before. Dark eyes potent, as if he could devour her whole. On the ice it was always part of a performance, even if it was infused by truth. But here, it is real, tangible, defined.

Desire. Love. Need.

It’s laced with a little angst, much like their first time, but when their mouths crash against the thirst of the other, it’s like a storm that rolls across the prairies. Essential and inexorable.

His hands are sliding up her thighs beneath her dress. The silkiness of her tights is driving his senses wild with fervour, wanting to feel his rigid cock against the smooth texture. She’s slipped off his suspenders and unbuckling his belt in quick bursts, her mouth at the base of his neck sucking a mark and biting down hard just to make sure he feels it.

He groans, hips lifting so that she can push down his boxer briefs and trousers. At the same moment his fingers have found the exterior of the bullet, which he swiftly pulls out halfway then shoves back in without warning. He’s been waiting all day to fuck her.

“Ah, baby...” she exclaims, her cunt clenching tight in surprise.

“You don’t need this to come, do you?” he asks, gliding it out and thrusting it in again, as she wraps her fingers around his cock, stroking him up and down, the tip leaking precum in expectation of the actual event.

She shudders and gives out a full-throated moan. “Just you, Scott. It’s only ever been you.”

He slides the bullet out of her, sending it clattering to the floor. “Then let me taste you,” he moves her off his lap so that she’s on her knees straddling him. Her evening dress is rucked up around her hips and he slides his body down the couch so that her pussy is right above his face. When his tongue hits her clit she’s nearly exploding with want.

He’s eating her out as if he’s been starved. And he would be right, because he hasn’t had a taste of her the past week since she was on her period. They’ve fucked of course, tender and rough because it’s his kink, and to be honest she loves the mess and pure rawness of it all. She remembers their first time, sexy and urgent, both of them not caring, only wanting, desperate with hunger for the kind of communion that transcended all sense or thought or fear.

But savouring her now is heaven. She’s so wet for him, she always is, and her salt tang juices taste like ambrosial nectar.

He’s not being delicate one bit, his mouth and lips biting and sucking, tongue snaking in and out of her as her hands clutch fistfuls of his hair and she pushes his head against the white leather of the sofa, riding his face vigorously. When he nuzzles against her clit with his nose, humming in appreciation, she’s just about ready to implode.

“Don’t you fucking stop,” she rasps out. “Don’t you fucking dare!”

He shakes his head against her pussy, one arm gripping her stockinged thigh, moaning the word _no_. He couldn’t even if he wanted to, her body now pinning him down like a vice grip. He loves her like this - all needy and demanding. He slips two fingers inside her and pumps into her steadily, already feeling her insides quivering before he hears her unbridled moans telling him she’s coming.

After having to hold her tongue this evening, she’s almost more emphatic than usual. He laps and sucks at her as she thrashes around above him, her body absorbing the shocks of her climax, her hips rolling and grinding asking for more pressure, more contact, more everything. Her hands are on her breasts, pinching her nipples, having stripped the top part of her dress off of her shoulders. He looks up at her from where he is, committing to memory what she looks like and all her erotic reactions in the twinkling glow of their Christmas tree. She’s so unbelievably tantalising it hurts.

“Why are you still dressed?” she complains, dragging a finger down his shirt when she’s found her voice again and he sits up, smacking his lips.

“I didn’t get as far as you did,” he raises his eyebrows at her state of undress. She looks thoroughly fucked, although to be pedantic, she hasn’t yet been.

“We’re going to have to change that, won’t we?” she stands up and unzips her dress, leaving only her stockings and high heels.

He starts unbuttoning his shirt in haste, his cock stiff and twitching freely. She’s down on her knees pulling off his trousers, underwear and socks, flipping her hair onto one side, so that it’s brushing against his thighs. She wants him to see the moment she takes all of him greedily into her mouth. 

He lets her take the lead. Their eye contact remains unbroken the entire time her tongue, her lips, her teeth, her hands work their magic on his cock. He’s not sure how she got so talented at this, but maybe he doesn’t want to ask the question. He grits his teeth at the thought of her bent over some other man’s cock, knowing it should have been him the whole time. However she honed her skills, all he knows is that she’s got him so hard and wet beyond belief, the slurping sounds and the image of her naked with only her lace hold ups and black patent Louboutin stilettos sending his head spinning.

She’s halfway deep-throating him, his thick cock and swollen head engulfed by her nude lips, hitting the ridges of her palate as he almost chokes her with his girth. He hisses _how good she feels_ and groans gutturally _how much he wants to be inside her, right now_. He’s always been known for serving smouldering sex faces on ice, but the real thing is much much more exquisite. Knowing that it’s her making him feel that way makes her want to please him more. 

She pushes off him in a smooth motion that breaks the suction of her mouth, pulling him along with her, as she lies back on the shaggy beige carpet of their living room. His hand is already wrapped around his saliva-lubricated cock, sliding teasingly up and down at her entrance. He slaps her clit with it, once, twice, waiting for her to beg for him.

“Now, baby, please,” she whimpers, desperate to have him moving within her.

“Like this, T?” he asks as he enters her slowly, taking his weight on one muscular arm, his dark hair falling over his face, eyes watching her body’s every response. His other hand undulates up to her breasts.

“Like this...” she looks into his eyes before she clasps his bicep with one hand, arching her back in ecstasy, raising her hips in one voluptuous movement, taking her own weight on her high heels and shoulders.

“Fuck, baby, you’re killing me,” he husks.

He watches her in wonder, keeping his pelvis tightly pressed against hers, allowing her gyrating swirls to push him up until he’s kneeling between her legs. She feels so taut and stretched around him, he lolls his head back in sexual bliss, hoisting her ass and thighs high up on his sinewy forearms to meet his plunging cock.

The friction this position allows is off the charts. Tessa is free to grind against him in tight circles, controlling her pleasure at the pace she wants. They find a kind a balance between her ragged spirals and his measured thrusts into her. He’s gripping her ass tight in his hands, helping her fuck his cock up and down as she rolls her hips, giving her clit the pressure it needs. Before she knows it, he’s escalating his tempo and she shudders in his arms, her hands covering her mouth lest she shout out in pleasure, her body shaking as the swell of rapture rolls over her.

Scott keeps going, his hips snapping in a powerful force against her body as she flails to reach out for him, grasping for his shoulders, touching his face, pulling him onto her so she can kiss him as deeply as he is crashing into her. They kiss fervently, breathing each other in, then he squeezes her throat again, mouth latched onto her breast, whilst her Louboutins are wrapped around his muscular ass, keeping his pace up along with the pulsing of her cunt.

He’s pushing up into her, cradling her back and hips with his arms. He’s changing rhythm once more, grinding slowly as he nuzzles his face against her neck, moving from one side of her face to the other, as if committing to memory what she feels like on his skin. Her hands are in his hair, hooked under his arms to grasp his strong shoulders, encircling his back, her mouth kissing and nipping, just trying to find a way to keep him close. Her voice is hoarse with orgasmic rapture, and she smiles as he looks her in her eyes and leans his forehead against hers.

Their sensual lovemaking intensifies once more, his cock pounding against her pussy and soon she’s coming again, mouth parted with moans and whimpers of pleasure. He’s unrestrained in his expression too, his low grunting giving way to full on swearing. He’s kneeling again and pulling her body to meet his, running his hands up and down her stockinged legs, watching how her pussy is riding the column of his cock when she creeps her hands down her torso to play with her clit.

“Fuck yes, Tess,” he growls. “Fuck me.”

Which is what she does. Using the strength of her core muscles, she starts sliding up and down his solid shaft, fucking him the way he needs. Just watching his cock disappear into her tight, wet heat is more than he can bear but knowing that she’s getting off on him is pleasure enough. Making her come this many times is what he’s made for.

“One more time, baby. Come with me,” he commands.

“I want you to come inside me, Scott,” she moans as she puts her weight on her high heels and uses that as leverage to ride him faster.

They haven’t used condoms regularly, she can’t stand them and neither can he. She loves feeling the hot spurt of his viscous come filling her up, mingling with her own sticky fluids, loves feeling it drip out of her, loves knowing he could put a baby inside her at any time. They hadn’t talked about it, considering they hadn’t even planned the wedding yet, but she knew what her forever was starting to look like.

“Fuck Tess, baby I’m going to come. Come with me,” he pants. “God damn. Fuck.”

She fucks him harder, slamming her cunt against his pelvis, grinding down on her swollen and sensitive clit, rolling her hips in the most indecent manner. He’s thrusting hard now, calling out her name, listening to her whine as she begins to fall apart around him, her pussy spasming forcefully for the fourth time, milking him of all his seed with her tight, clenching, throbbing muscles.

Oh he’s paid his debt to her alright, but in all the best ways. They’ve wasted too much time dealing in angst and uncertainty. Whatever their future brings, anything is better than their past.

They are a team, the best kind, now.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are much appreciated! Come say hi and discuss DirtyTalk!SuspenderScott here or on Twitter @lapetitemort20 x


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